


First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life

by tyrannosaurus_rex (orphan_account)



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Family Dynamics, Father-Son Relationship, Forced father-son dynamic, Gen, Intimidation, Negan is a Douche, Negan takes reader under his wing, Unwanted Nicknames, brief mentions of violence, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tyrannosaurus_rex
Summary: Reader tries to steal from The Saviors, leading to some less-than-ideal circumstances.





	First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life

Dirt and blood caked in and around your mouth. Sweat dampened your hair and it was either that or tears that were rolling down your face. Gravel was digging into your skin, as you were being held in a kneeling position with the threat of getting your head bashed in with a baseball bat if you dared to move.

You had been so close.

So fucking  _close_.

But the eleven feet between you and the Sanctuary fence was enough to be considered life or death, due to the fact that you had broken in and attempted to steal medical supplies and non-perishable food. The fact that you stole them for the survival of others didn't matter, because they likely didn't care. You stole, and that shit doesn't fly here.

But you hadn't figured that out yet.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

A sharp kick to the knee made you look up, and you were greeted by a dirty hand grabbing your jaw and making you lock eyes with him. "You still with me, kid? For a minute, I thought you were a goner. Couldn't have that happen now, could we?"

It was Negan. That had to be him. You had heard of him, but didn't know much except he was a bad dude with a baseball bat. Your group had kept you quite sheltered over the past few years, letting you grow up in the fucking  _apocalypse_  without a fucking clue about  _how to_ _survive!_

"You're young. How old are you? Ten? Eleven?"

Another kick to the knee made you speak. You barely managed to spit out your age and he chuckled. " _Fifteen_? You're a kid. I can't kill a kid because he hasn't been taught to behave better." He stuck his hand out to you and you stared at it blankly. Instead of waiting for you to take the hint and grab his hand, he grabbed you by the jacket collar and pulled you to your feet. "What's your name, kid?"

" _Y/N._ "

" _Y/N_?" He repeated. You nodded in response, wincing when he tightly grabbed your shoulder. "I'm Negan."


End file.
